In the midst of my first holiday event, the snow began to fall, on cue, Saturday afternoon. After we closed shop at the end of the day, I sat at the computer and found myself time-traveling to Montmartre, where I spent some wonderfully chilly days last January. Void of tourists, the artists’ square was all but abandoned, save a handful of the heartiest artists and a lovely black dog, who reminded me of our friend Laura’s Mirabelle.
The week to come will find us in warmer climes, mounting Knob Hill or Twin Peaks rather than Montmartre. We’ll spend Thanksgiving in San Francisco with musician/theater friends who live there taking in Chinatown, Union Square, theater and, if time permits, a drive up the northern coastline. Will it trump the romance and history of Monmartre?